


His Royal Majesty

by yanyan_eggs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanyan_eggs/pseuds/yanyan_eggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano is the newly coronated King of Roma. His late grandfather, by whose wish Feliciano became king, had previously neglected an epidemic in the neighboring kingdom of Germania. It is up to Feliciano to deal with the quickly spreading disease, and upon meeting a Germanian prince named Ludwig, his decisions are greatly influenced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading my GerIta story. It is rated teen and up for a bit of mild language and mention of alcohol abuse. Please enjoy!

The slow, powerful organ music seemed to shake Feliciano's every bone. The huge crowd was witnessing him trembling like a leaf as the pastor handed him the royal orb and scepter. His hands felt as if they were barely able to bear their weight. He locked his eyes on a red-tiled roof near the edge of a lake as the crown of Roma was lowered onto his head.

The town square exploded with applause as he turned on his heel, a member of his retinue picking up the end of his long cape as he proceeded inside to the throne room.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes finally directed elsewhere, he managed to relax his face and breathing rate. Two servants opened the doors to the throne room. Slowly he and the others marched inside.

His two brothers, Prince Lovino and Prince Romeo, stood next to the throne. The latter seemed to be struggling to control his energy, as could be observed in the slightest bouncing of his feet and fidgeting hands. The former, on the other hand, stayed stiff as a board, glaring morosely at his younger brother. 

"Your Royal Majesty," said a few nobles and kings in unison, simultaneously falling onto one knee. All looked down reverently, save for King Alaric of Germania, who kept his icy, disrespectful gaze on King Feliciano. He was almost as old as the previous monarch of Roma, King Aurelius, had been at his death. He had two grandsons who were both Feliciano's age. He sat down on the throne and managed a weak smile at them.

"What will be your first royal order, Your Royal Majesty?" asked a servant, bowing low in front of him.

He took a deep breath and maintained eye contact. "Call the townspeople into the ballroom for a party. Have the cooks prepare their best dishes, and take the oldest barrels of wine out of the cellar."


	2. The Successor

The silence of the night was deafening. In Feliciano's old bedroom he had heard the sound of crickets from beyond the lavish wallpaper, the plaster, and the granite walls. Now, deep within the palace, the only sound to comfort him was his own shifting under the silk blankets, the only sight the last glowing remains of a long-dead fire. No moonlight streamed in through stained-glass windows if ever he moved aside a curtain. The brass doorknob did not gleam subtly in the dark.

He was very thirsty, and thought he might order a servant to fetch him a glass of water. There was a bell on his nightstand to be used for such a purpose, but he did not reach out for it. All the servants were asleep, and it would be bothersome of him to wake each and every inhabitant of the palace up by making a racket over a cup of water.

Instead he crawled tentatively out of bed, resolving determinedly to walk to the kitchen on the other side of the palace. The water there was cleaner and more fresh than that of the washrooms, as the huge basin there was to be used only for food and drink, never for cleaning. The cold was more harsh than Feliciano expected it to be, in contrast with the heavy wool blankets and soft down mattress of his bed. He crept out his door, the hinges making a loud creaking noise as they moved. Each step he took down the hall seemed to echo off the stone walls of the cavernous corridor. The sound of a mouse moving through the walls made him jump. He heard faint snores as he passed Romeo's room, treading softly as not to wake him. Yet when he neared Lovino's room some ways down, he heard not the sounds of a sleeping man but that of quiet, shaking sobs.

"Lovino?" he called. Half his mind wished his brother would not hear him.

"Go away," came a bark from within.

"What's wrong?" he opened the door to see him lying face down, clutching the sides of his pillow as he tried in vain to regain his composure. The prince turned to look at the king, tears glistening in the light of the fire he had obviously been tending himself.

"You can tell me. If it's my fault I promise I'll apologize! I didn't mean anything bad, I promise!"

"It's not your fault," he growled, "it's Grandfather's."

"Grandpa? What did he do wrong? I'm sure he meant well, he always makes the right decisions anyway."

Lovino gave a mirthless chuckle. "He gave you the throne, that's what he did wrong! And I wouldn't say he always made the best choices. Tell me, was it good of Glorious Grandpa to spend a third of Roma's annual military budget on wine and prostitutes? Was it right to deliberately turn a blind eye to the plague sweeping Germania? Was it a good idea to deny his next of kin the throne in favor of the one who could effin' paint better?" His voice cracked.

Feliciano's eyes began to well up with hot tears. "Okay, maybe he could have done better, but the economy is doing good! The kingdom gained so much land under his rule, Lovino! And please, please don't take it out on me. You know I didn't ask for this!"

"Baby brother," he rasped, entire body shaking, "you may be king in Grandfather's twisted view of the law-"

"His last will and testament!"

"Don't interrupt me! Grandfather may have made you the monarch of Roma, but no law conceivable will ever make me submit to you! Now go!"

The king nodded, tears streaming down his face, and dashed out of the room and down the hallway, slamming the door behind him. He walked stiffly towards the kitchens when he heard a voice call his name.

"Feli?" He whipped around to see Prince Romeo, holding a candle and rubbing his eyes. "What are you two yelling about?"

He tried to make his voice sound authoritative, powerful like when his Grandpa used to give orders to stony-faced lieutenants or dictated his ramblings to the palace scribe. "Romeo, go back to sleep."

"Come on, if you're gonna wake me up this late with your screaming, you better be prepared to tell me why. I know you're keeping some secret from me, and I have a feeling you're not throwing me a surprise party anytime soon. I'm getting tired of this!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Feliciano replied, "but although it doesn't concern you, I suppose you do have a right to know. But I don't wanna talk about it now, is tomorrow okay?"

"The suspense will kill me," said Romeo, rolling his eyes.

"I was going to go get a glass of water, do you want to come?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied through a yawn, "this reminds me of when we were kids. Remember when we would pick some weird time to meet out in the hall and go steal food?"

"Of course! And the time would always be super strange, like 'when the fires burn out' or 'when the moon reaches the red pane in the stained-glass windows.'" Feliciano smiled and rubbed away his tears.

"One of us would always miss it and fall asleep, though," Romeo said with a chuckle.

The king sighed. "I'd give anything to go back to who we were then."


	3. The Message

The bugler played a short, lively fanfare. "Your Royal Majesty King Feliciano, a messenger from the Kingdom of Germania has arrived and seeks a royal audience. Do I have your permission to let him enter?"

"Does he have the plague? Is he contagious?" Lovino asked, moving forward in his chair.

"Of course he may enter," Feliciano said.

A blond man dressed in dirty rags with a strip of white cloth tied around his nose and mouth came in. "Your Royal Majesty King Feliciano of Roma," he said, bowing low, "I myself do not have the plague, nor have I come in contact with any of its sufferers." He glared at Prince Lovino. "I am here to inform Your Royal Majesty that along with His Royal Highness Crown Prince Gilbert, His Royal Majesty King Alaric has come down with the plague."

Feliciano gasped. "What about the other brother?"

"His Highness Prince Ludwig is well and is currently not allowed contact with his brother or grandfather. If succession does indeed become a question, it has been decided that he shall rule Germania until the event of the Crown Prince's recovery. This brings me to my point, which is a request that could become a trade if need be."

"We don't want any of your contaminated crap," the prince hissed.

"Shush, Lovino," Feliciano said, "what's the request?"

The messenger closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "His Royal Majesty King Alaric wishes that His Highness Prince Ludwig be housed in Roma until the plague passes over, or more specifically until the King and Crown Prince recover."

"Oh, hell no."

"Of course! We'll set him up with a room and stuff inside the palace, alright?" Feliciano smiled at the stony-faced Germanian. "Go tell a servant I ordered you to take a cart, horse, and driver to your kingdom and pick up the prince. Be really careful not to get the plague, okay?"

"Thank you, Your Royal Majesty," he said with a stiff bow and marched out of the room.

"He sure is a bucket of peaches, no?" Lovino said bitterly as the bugler closed the doors behind him.

"Go easy on him," Prince Romeo retorted, "If you lived in a plague-stricken hellscape like that, you'd be an angry bastard too. Oh wait." He started sniggering uncontrollably into his hands.


	4. The Prince

Prince Ludwig of Germania was like a shadow. He arrived one day, proud and serious, and just as soon disappeared into the guest quarters after his welcome party ended. At mealtimes he listened attentively to the king and princes' conversations, occasionally asking a question about life in Roma. He was always polite, yet aloof, often disappearing for hours on end to take solitary walks through the garden or pore over the books Feliciano gave him free rein to borrow. He never smiled or laughed, and often seemed shocked at the informal and free-spirited actions and speech of the Romans. At first, Feliciano had been terrified of his tall, muscular stature and reserved, solemn demeanor. However, as time passed on and fleeting shared memories were woven, the King of Roma grew rather fond of the foreign prince.

One night, he decided to go to bed late, choosing instead to lay outside on the palace green and gaze up at the stars. For what could have been hours or minutes he stared, transfixed, at the royal blue sky, seeing only a few of the many constellations Aurelius had taught him to identify as a child.

Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Cassiopeia. Cepheus. More and more appeared as the sky sank into a velvety black color and the summer night air grew chill and moist.

Cygnus. Lyra. The Pleiades. Again, he was a small child lying on his grandfather's chest, the only noises the chirping crickets and the beating of their hearts. Lovino and Romeo never knew of their running outside at night to stargaze, it was a joy the old king granted upon Feliciano and Feliciano alone. Now, that steadily thumping heart was silent and cold, rotting away in his grave.

Pegasus. Draco. Hercules. Capricornus. Aurelius had learned the names of the constellations from the Grecian Queen, whom he had fallen madly in love with during his kingship. He told of her beauty, creativity, and intelligence. She, however, was rather sickly and feeble, and perished a week before their wedding day was scheduled, leaving her son the king.

"May I join you, Your Royal Majesty?" Feliciano started. The voice was smooth, deep, and had a thick Germanian accent.

"Sure, Ludwig, I mean Your Highness," he said, "I was just looking at the stars."

The prince unbuttoned his cape and spread it out on the grass. He lay down, keeping a respectful distance from the king. "Pleasant night, isn't it?" he said, "No moon, no clouds, not too cold. Perfect for stargazing."

"Hm," Feliciano said in affirmation, "do you know much about stars?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly, "I know most of the myths as to how the constellations were made. I can name nearly all of the brightest stars and planets."

"Really?" said the king enthusiastically. He rolled over to face Ludwig. "Name that one. Kind of near Polaris."

Ludwig smiled. Feliciano's heart jumped. "Your Royal Majesty, that is not a star but Mars. Notice its red color."

In truth, he had not known the name of the celestial body, but felt stupid for not seeing the color. "You sure are smart, Your Highness," he said with a sigh, "I'm getting cold." The king proceeded to roll over right next to the prince, letting their combined warmth engulf him.

"What are you doing, Your Royal Majesty?" Ludwig said, startled.

"Making sure you're not cold, too."

"Y-Your Royal Majesty, I appreciate the sentiment," he stuttered, inching away, "but is this truly kingly behavior?"

"No matter," he said with a yawn, "Nobody's watching us." He propped his head up on his chest and gasped. The prince's heartbeat was loud and deep in his ear, and much faster than his grandfather's. Yet gradually it slowed, and Ludwig tentatively ran his fingers through Feliciano's hair. He was filled with a giddy, pleasurable sensation at the slow, gentle combing of his fingers over his head. The night inched on, stars that had been over one tree drifted over another, sounds of animals came from far away.

Slowly and peacefully, the king fell asleep, surrounded by the grass, the prince, and the beautiful desolation of the cosmos.


	5. Crown Prince Gilbert

"Prince Ludwig," the king said, "tell me about your older brother."

"Well," he said, looking him straight in the eye, "he is the Crown Prince. He's very protective, especially of myself and anything he views as not hostile and below him. He loves animals and often brings them inside to take care of. Although he comes off harsh and full of vigor, he is gentle. He has quite a superiority complex, on the other hand, and is quite obnoxious in his conceit. He says that he loves to be alone, yet I think he secretly craves attention. He is very eccentric, and very smart. But-" he paused. "Ever since he got the plague, he and Grandfather have both been so scatter-brained and weak. Not like themselves at all." His voice cracked on the last sentence.

"My older brother is like that too," said Feliciano, scooting his chair closer still to that of the prince, "you know, 'harsh and full of vigor,' 'Superiority complex,' 'obnoxiously conceited,' 'eccentric,' 'craves attention.'"

Lovino's jaw dropped and his fork clattered to the floor. "My own baby brother? What a backstabber!" he muttered.

"So I understand," Feliciano continued, leaning his head affectionately against Ludwig's shoulder, "Your brother sounds like a really nice guy, Ludwig!"


	6. Letters

Feliciano knocked apprehensively on the prince's door. "Your Highness? Can I come in?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Yay!" Thrilled, he ran over to Ludwig's bed and flopped onto its soft down mattress. He caught himself reveling in its lovely smell. The prince himself sat by his desk, a long white quill in his hand. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, staring up at the elaborately carved ceiling.

"I," he said slowly, "am writing letters to my brother and grandfather back home." He finished writing with what Feliciano supposed to be an ornate flourish.

"Oh," the king sighed, "I wish I could write letters to my grandfather where he is. My tutor always told me that people go to Heaven after they die... Come to think of it, my tutor was Germanian! His name was Roderich Edelstein."

The prince looked up. He drew in a sharp breath as a drop of the hot sealing wax he had been using to seal the letter fell onto his finger. "I know him," he said as he took the soft wax off his hand, "he arrived at our palace when I was thirteen, claiming to be our old tutor. I did not believe him, but Gilbert only laughed. Although my brother is not much older than I, he must remember something I do not."

"I was thirteen when he left," Feliciano said excitedly, "that explains a lot! I think he got sick of how carefree the Romans are and wanted a more organized, serious person like you to teach." He gave a dry laugh.

"He hardly taught us at all. I believe he wanted only to live inside the palace." His face fell. "And so he does. He is quarantined in a room next to my grandfather's."

Feliciano's heart gave a sort of jolt. "Roderich? Really?"

"Yes," he said, "along with several other palace officials. They are pushed to one wing while regular procedures are carried out in the rest of the palace." His mind could not wrap around the idea of the strict, demanding man bedridden and sick.

"That's terrible," he said, "you know what, I'm gonna order the palace scientists to start looking for a cure."

Ludwig's eyes widened. "You have not began researching a cure yet? What have they been doing?"

"Looking for a better way to cure meat, I think," he replied nonchalantly, "but I'll get them working, I promise!"


	7. Long Live The King

Lovino burst through the courtyard door. "You idiot!" he screamed as Feliciano lifted his paintbrush from the canvas, "Shirking your duties again?"

"I was inspired," he whined, "and you can't order me around! I'm the king, remember?"

"You're a terrible one. You've missed three appointments just so you could go out in the garden and paint. I don't know what Grandfather was thinking."

"It's too nice a day to be stuck indoors," he muttered as he dabbed a spot of grey on the tree he was depicting.

"And Feli," he continued, "this is gonna sound weird, but I think you should go talk to Prince Ludwig. I don't know why, but he always seems to be happier when you're around."

"Okay, why?" He stared into Lovino's cold green eyes. "I'd love to talk to Ludwig."

Feliciano sealed shut his jars of paints and left the elaborate tree to dry as his brother walked back inside. He followed, but broke off at the main corridor. One way led to the throne room, the other to the guest wing. His heart pounded at the idea of this mysterious turn of events, and fear for what could be wrong spread, acidic, through his veins. The twittering of birds outside did nothing to ease his troubled mind.

"Your Highness?" he called, knocking on his door. There was silence. He opened the door to see Prince Ludwig wearing a hooded black cloak, standing at the bay window. He was still as a statue. "What is it?" he said, voice hoarse.

"Your Royal Majesty," his voice came, "I do not doubt you know the reason of my, er, suffering."

"No." His heartbeat quickened.

"My grandfather," he said, choking on the words, "never got to read that letter I sent him."

It was as if the world stopped turning, the birds froze in the sunshine-filled sky, and the wind in the trees jolted to a halt. "I'm so sorry," Feliciano whispered. And then the grief he had endured in the days following his own grandfather's death came hurtling back to him like an avalanche. The pain, the tears, the anger at the world all trapped him beneath their mighty weight. "Long live the king," he rasped.


	8. Kisses and Correspondence

"May I present Your Highness with a kiss?" crooned the postman, grinning at Prince Lovino.

"No!" Feliciano sputtered, "you might be contagious, remember?"

"Aw, come on, Your Majesty," he said, reaching out for his hand, "you know I'm not. All I do is deliver letters!" He planted a kiss on the back of the prince's hand.

"He- He's right, you know," Lovino said, turning scarlet, "you're gonna get all of Roma sick, Antonio. Hopping around kissing people with letters straight from Germania in your hands."

"Anyway~" Romeo interrupted, "thanks for the letters."

"My pleasure," he said with a little salute, "and Your Highness, I promise I'm not kissing anyone else."

"You're supposed to bow, bastard," he muttered, hiding his face behind a stack of mail, "we're not peasants, remember?"

Feliciano tore open his letter from Ludwig, hoping with all his heart that he was well and happy. He read:

Dear Your Royal Majesty King Feliciano of Roma, I have been well, albeit sad, since my return home. We are still in mourning for my grandfather. I hope that you are happy and that no Romans have gotten the plague. I fear that along with the days of summer, my brother is slipping away too. I am praying that your scientists discover a cure, or at least a treatment, for the plague quickly. I offer my sincere apologies in that Germania does not have the financial strength to help in your experimentation. As the days grow colder, I wish for both your and my people's safety and wellbeing. The job of temporary king is suiting me well. Although it is difficult to rule a kingdom in the midst of an epidemic and do so adeptly, I enjoy the power and responsibility I hold. It is quite a lot of work, which brings me to wonder how you made time in your day to visit me, make art, make music, and take naps with so many kingly duties to be carried out. I would like to know your secret. I wish you good luck and prosperity in Roma, and I miss you very much. Signed, Prince Ludwig of Germania

The king's eyes clouded up. He missed him with a sort of burning sadness in his heart. Never had he felt this way before, that the only thing that truly mattered was this person's happiness and success. Was this love? It felt so different than the uncontrollable, passionate infatuation he was used to. He sighed and brushed a tear out of his eye.


	9. Late Summer Love

The sky was a robin's egg blue; clouds drifted lazily by. The king and his brothers strolled across the palace green, accompanied by a select few members of their retinues. The world seemed to radiate summertime cheer.

"Romeo," said Feliciano, "have you ever been in love?" The prince laughed.

"Of course," he said, "all the time."

King Feliciano smiled. "Anyone really special?"

"Well," he said, averting his eyes and grinning widely, "I suppose that little Gaulish princess was a touch prettier than the rest. And how strong-willed, too. Flat-out refused the first time I asked her on a date; the second time she challenged me to a game of poker and said I could take her out rowing on the lagoon if I won. Of course she destroyed me at cards. We never play much here, anyway."

"What about you, Lovi? Do you like anyone?"

"No," deadpanned the older prince, "can we go back inside? I'm getting tired." His scowling face was rather pale.

"What about the mail carrier?" Romeo teased, "You seemed pretty damn happy when he gave you a kiss."

Lovino's cheeks regained some more of their color. "No," he snapped, "stop making me uncomfortable. Royalty such as I would never fall in love with a peasant."

"Your flawed logic won't work here, Lovi," chattered Romeo, "we can see right through you."

Lovino crossed his arms.

"And what about you, Feli? Why'd you ask, anyway? Who have you got your eye on?"

"Nobody," he said offhandedly, "not at the moment."

"Uh-huh," drawled Romeo, "a likely story. Still with that pretty girl from the midsummer festival?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. You were quite drunk, anyway. What about-"

"I'm getting tired," whined Lovino again, "can we go back inside?"

Feliciano smiled. "Sure, it's almost siesta time anyway."


	10. Erika

The scientist jammed the needle into the little girl's wrist and pushed down the plunger. Feliciano, standing across the small room, could not help but gasp at her fleeting wince. "So," he said, looking into her wide green eyes, "why did you volunteer for this? It doesn't look like very much fun." The masked scientist, wax-covered robes swishing ominously, withdrew the glass syringe from her vein, and wiped the blood away with a scrap of gauze.

"Well," she began, voice high and sweet, yet weak and quavering slightly, "there are a lot of reasons. One is that I really want the cure to be found, I can't bear to think of more people getting this awful-" she paused to cough into her elbow, "-disease. The second reason, I suppose, is that I wanted to get away from my brother in case I was contagious."

"The plague travels through bodily fluids," Feliciano interrupted, fidgeting with the large, gold buttons on his robe, "mostly blood. But it's best to be far away anyway, because stuff like sweat and saliva can still carry it, too."

"Oh," the girl replied, "I wanted to get away from my brother because he's a royal messenger, and I think if he got sick he might get the whole world sick, too. Do you know my brother, Basch? I'm sure he's delivered countless messages to Roma."

"Is he the grumpy one with the blond hair? Kinda short?"

She smiled. "That sounds about right," she said as the scientist threw the syringe into a bin labeled "CONTAMINATED." It occurred to the king how much money Roma was pouring into these instruments alone. Only a few, very talented people could make syringes, and even fewer knew how to sand the glass down to a point suitable for puncturing skin.

"I'm so sorry, dear," he said with a frown, "I wish I could come over and hug you or something, but you know I can't..."

"It's alright," she said with a faint smile, "it was nice seeing you, though!"

"Before I leave, then, what's your name?"

"Erika," she said.

"Goodbye, Erika," he replied, "I'll be praying for you to get better." He closed the door to the subject's chamber and down the laboratory's main corridor. It was lit with flickering sconces, and the walls were lined with doors to chambers that were all, for the most part, empty. Volunteers being hard to come by, the king's visit had been short.

Feliciano had not considered how dark the interior of the windowless building had been until he opened the door, glaring sunlight warming his skin and blinding his eyes. A servant smiled warmly and opened the door to his carriage. As they drove back, he waved and smiled to anyone who caught his eye through the window.


	11. The Plague

"Lovino," he said, "can I come in?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he croaked, turning over slowly in bed.

Feliciano sank into a velvet chair by the fireside. "I went to visit the volunteers at the laboratory today."

"Oh," the prince said dryly.

"I've been thinking, maybe we should put more money into research."

"Nonsense, we're already spending so much."

He gazed at the crackling flames. "But I don't want to see bad things happen to good people anymore!"

Something Ludwig had said came to mind suddenly. _"Ever since he got the plague, he and Grandfather have both been so scatter-brained and weak. Not like themselves at all."_

"That's... That's really nice of you, Feli. You're a nice person, even if you are the world's worst king." He started coughing so hard he had to sit up and bow his head over his elbow. "Can I have some water?"

Feliciano ran to where Lovino's bell sat and rung it as hard as he could. "Um, Prince Lovino," he said, looking at the ground and folding his hands, "I've gotta say something."

"I know already, Jesus Christ! And since when have you called me Prince Lovino?"

"So you know..." he mumbled, "I- I think you... I'm pretty sure you... I hate to say this..." It was as if saying it was true would be what made it true; not the fact that it was happening, it was here, but speaking the words aloud.

"I have the goddamn plague!" he snapped, in a voice that would have been a scream if it were not so weak and hoarse, "I'm probably gonna die! I'm gonna get all of you sick and then some peasant is going to rule Roma. There. I said it."

And suddenly tears sprung to the king's eyes. The thought of Lovino forever sick and bedridden horrified him. Lovino could not waste away, less than a shadow of his former self, as did King Alaric. All because of a kiss.

A servant burst through the door and screamed. "Your Royal Majesty!" she shrieked, "What is wrong?"

He looked up and smiled through his tears. "Lovino would like a glass of water, miss."


	12. Darkening

The trees had started to turn a majestic array of colors with the coming of the fall. Summer was gone long before they knew it was on its way out. Chill breezes swept the palace grounds, taking up fallen leaves in their crisp gusts. Letters were sent back and forth to Germania and Roma. Some told of the decline of princes in illness, others of continued medical research, more yet of trivialities such as the changing season and the arduous requirements that went along with kingship. People wasted away, fires were lit, and servants raked away leaves. Blades of grass faded to brown at the tips. Prince Lovino only left his bed at mealtimes now, and grew steadily weaker.

One of such early autumn nights, only a few crickets chirped as King Feliciano sat in his study, flickering candles illuminating softly the book he wrote in. The remaining silence was filled with the scratching of his quill and the crackling of the fireplace.

Dear Diary,

I got another letter from Ludwig today. His brother can't walk any more! Everyone has been so sad lately, and I don't like it. It all started when Grandpa passed away, people started to get mean and cold, and I feel like I try every day to cling on to the last scrap of sunlight in the darkening world. Everything can be described with metaphors, I think. Sometimes you have to try pretty hard, but if they're good enough, metaphors always sound nicer. A metaphor for my brother might be one of those loud, colorful birds that live in the south that always have the prettiest pictures in the science books. Except this big, show-off bird has a broken wing and can't fly anymore. He's still beautiful, but it's hard for him to find food and attract a female bird and such. As I write this I feel like I'm falling prey to this sadness, too. I know that the only way to be successful and lead a pleasurable life is to be happy and thankful for all you have, but even I, whom people say can always make everyone feel better, am so scared so often. I hate it, and I wish I could go back to when everything was alright and none of the problems were my fault.

Feliciano

He bit his lip and tore the page out of the book. It was nothing worth preserving, he thought while crumpling it up, It wasn't my best calligraphy, and I need to get those thoughts out of my head. Somebody would come, be it Ludwig, the ghost of his grandfather, or a black-cloaked scientist, and they would make everything better. It was true that some things could not be changed, but in the end, all that could be fixed always was. Worrying did nothing but harm. He threw the paper in the fire and watched it turn orange as flames licked it up.


	13. Desperation

"Feli, get in here!" came the anguished scream of Prince Romeo as the king came bolting down the hall. He burst in Lovino's door to see his little brother, tears streaming down his red face. "He's fallen into a coma," he sobbed. Feliciano's heart plummeted, thoughts instantly spinning out of control. "What'll we do?"

A gloved servant laid a wet towel on Lovino's forehead nervously. "I don't know!" he replied, bursting into tears. None of the three brothers had ever been very strong, so it was only natural that Lovino would fare worse and crumple faster under the weight of the plague than Crown Prince Gilbert.

"C-can you go get the palace doctor?" croaked Romeo to the servant, "He'll know a way to get him food and water." He said this firmly, as if he were trying to convince himself that it was true.

Feliciano collapsed on the floor, trying with all his might not to succumb to his urge to touch his brother, squeeze his cold hands and kiss his cheeks. He pushed away the lurking dread that this could be the end of him. Faint, shallow breaths seemed to dominate the room after the servant shut the door, somehow standing out as both Romeo and Feliciano shook with sobs. Time dragged on, and tears trickled down the two men's faces. With every passing second Lovino seemed closer to death, despite the obvious irrationality of that repulsive notion. The fact that the prince was slipping away through their fingertips seemed more real than ever, now that he was unconscious and would not be woken for an indeterminate amount of time.

The door slammed open, interrupting their grieving. Blinking away tears, Feliciano saw a black-cloaked figure rush through the door and run up to Lovino's bed. The sound of the mysterious intruder's clothing was not the swishing one would expect of long robes, but that of cloth covered in wax. Romeo gasped. The scientist grabbed the comatose prince's wrist and jammed a syringe into his skin. The servant and the palace doctor came bustling through the door.

"Results," said the scientist, lowering their mask, "are not instant. This may be, after all, only a treatment and not a cure, as long-term effects have not yet been measured."

Silence. The prince gave a small groan as the plunger was pushed down. There was a collective gasp from all in the room. "Lovino..." whispered Romeo.

"Go," Feliciano ordered the servant, "get a carriage ready with medicine for everyone inside the Germanian royal palace. Save a special shot for Prince Gilbert... And for the tutor, Roderich Edelstein. Have an invitation sent to Prince Ludwig as well, we can have a feast in a few days!"

Outside, a single snowflake fell.


	14. Song and Dance

"Of course!" Feliciano said, smiling broadly, "We'll be sending relief to all your major cities once we make enough medicine. By the way, how's Gilbert doing? Have you scheduled his coronation yet?"

"He is recovering," replied Prince Ludwig, "and will be coronated when he has returned to full health. I presume your brother is no longer contagious?" He pointed at Lovino, who was slumped on the table, wine spilt all over his finery.

"No, he's not. But he is in pretty bad shape. The doctor told him not to drink too much, and now look! He's so disobedient!"

Ludwig sighed. "I think he will be alright."

"Yeah, he always is," Feliciano said, "What about Roderich? And all the other palace officials?"

"They are recuperating at different rates. Mr. Edelstein is frail and is taking longer than the rest. He will be better in due time, though. I miss the sound of his playing our piano."

"You have a piano too? I always loved-" his attention was caught by Romeo standing up to go dance with the princess from Gallia whom, along with several other young and pretty girls, had been one of the first to be invited to the party.

He gazed into her eyes, a lopsided smile on his face. "Lucille," he crooned, "Your Highness. Will you give me a kiss? Just this once?"

"Certainly," she said, instead giving him a cold glare, "if you can do one thing for me."

"Anything for you, Princess." She stalked over to where the musicians sat. She said something to the conductor and flipped through her scores. She smiled smugly, pointed at one, and ran back to Romeo. "If you can dance to this song without making a single mistake, I'll kiss you."

The music started up, quick and lively, Lucille leaping and twirling around. Romeo was an adequate partner for her, as he was fast and light on his feet despite the fair amount of wine in him. As the uplifting vivace drew to a close, the prince drew the princess into a tight embrace and pressed his lips to hers.

Feliciano smiled amusedly at the couple. "You're a good kisser," Romeo said, breaking away.

Lucille grinned. "Thanks," she said.

"Do you want to dance?" The king jumped in his seat. It was Prince Ludwig who had spoken. He could not move his lips, only nod slowly and look down into his lap as his heart pounded in his chest.

The chair creaked as he stood up, taking Ludwig's hand and walking over to the dance floor. The musicians struck up a slow, romantic waltz. He finally looked up to see the prince blushing slightly.

"You dance like this," Feliciano said, smiling shyly up at Prince Ludwig. He bent one knee and took a great step, then took two smaller steps in the opposite direction. The prince followed suit, however he was a touch clumsier due to his muscular legs and tall stature. The king, although stumbling a few times, was graceful and light. Feliciano laid a hand on Ludwig's back and stared into his. Startled, he realized they were the color the sky had been on the day they had met, a clear, pale blue. Such eye contact gave him a pleasant tingling feeling in his chest and his smile widened of its own accord. The lilting beat of the song guided them slowly in circles across the dance floor, around tapping shoes and swishing skirts, soft chatter and flushed faces.

"Your Royal Majesty," said Ludwig as the song ambled on, "you... You are an exceptionally good dancer."

His heart fluttered. "You are too, darling." He gasped. The word had slipped out without plan. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Do not be sorry," Ludwig interrupted, face turning red. "You know, I wish I had spent more time in the Roman palace, to be honest with myself. Of course, I missed Germania dearly, but the Romans are such strange and fascinating people." He looked down at his feet. "You especially."

It could not be stopped now. His heart was ablaze with a giddy passion, and Prince Ludwig's happiness was all that mattered. One, two three, one, two three. After what seemed like forever, the song ended with a soft, extended note.

"Your Highness?" Feliciano whispered, "Can I tell you something?"

"Hm?"

"I-" his heart beat, fast and loud, in his ears. "I think I love you."

"Your Royal Majesty," Ludwig said slowly, "I know I love you."

All of a sudden, Feliciano was grabbing his face and smashing his lips into his on a mad impulse, and the prince did not let go. All around them the room had silenced as baffled onlookers stared. A new song began to play, this time with a foreign man singing a folk song. Feliciano knew it well from his childhood, he and his brothers had belted it out melodramatically while their grandfather played guitar.

Gradually he broke away from the kiss and guided Prince Ludwig along with the dance. Softly, Feliciano sang along.

"'Twas a warm summer day of the prettiest kind

I first caught a glimpse of the sweet lover of mine

To this day I remember thy hair so fine

And thy crystal blue eyes all a-shine, all a-shine

Forever I'll dream of the sweet lover of mine

How we sat by the river and wasted our time

Whenever we kissed, thy soft lips taste of wine

At that moment I saw thee and proclaimed myself thine

In my heart thou'rt forever the sweet lover of mine

Though sweet words may be lost to the cruel hands of time

The days spent together yet reside in my mind

Despite that I, sadly, had left thee behind

Adventure had called from across waters malign

While my only true love to bide had resigned

The oceans were choppy, the waves of much incline

Fate had me abandon the sweet lover of mine

Tossed was I into the malevolent brine

And the waves to a foreign beach had me consigned

Yet no begging nor pleading yielded knowledge divine

None knew the whereabouts of the sweet lover of mine

So I roamed the strange country in search of the sublime

Of the person whose love cannot yet be defined

All the while I cried for an old, perished time

A time which I shared with the sweet lover of mine

Thou shalt be forever the sweet lover of mine."

"That is not a very happy song," Ludwig remarked.

"No, it's not," agreed Feliciano, "but it brings back memories of singing it with Grandpa. It kind of reminds me of you, too."

He looked puzzled. "How so?"

"Well it's..." he trailed off. "I don't know, it just does."

He smiled. "It is pretty, so I will say thank you accordingly."

"You're welcome!" he replied with a chuckle, "I'm glad you like it. It's nice to have someone who appreciates Roman culture as you do."

"And the Roman king," he said shyly.


	15. The New King

"His Royal Majesty King Gilbert of Germania!" the spectators shouted in unison. Feliciano clapped enthusiastically.

"Let the party begin!" the new king said.

Feliciano reached out to squeeze Prince Ludwig's hand. "Ludwig," he whispered, "before the reception starts, do you wanna go take a walk in the garden with me?"

"I would love to." The pair stood up and weaved through the scattering guests outside to the mostly bare garden. The snow had been cleared away, but most of the plants were without leaves. Yet holly bushes still sat at intervals around the garden's perimeter, and carefully cut evergreen topiaries stood proudly amongst their deciduous brethren. "Not very romantic," the prince remarked.

"I like it just fine," said King Feliciano, giving him a peck on the cheek. "You always come to Roma, I wish we could visit Germania more! It's nicer than you say it is."

"I think my kingdom is lovely, you have let the words of your older brother get to your head." Feliciano giggled. "By the way, how is he? Do you think he has fully recovered yet?"

"Yeah, almost! I'm sure he'll be nice and lively at the reception party, you know how he is with food and pretty girls and such."

Ludwig smiled. "I am glad to hear it."

"Oh! Oh, Ludwig! I brought you a present!" He grinned and dug around in his pocket. "So, after I concluded how much I love you-" he knelt down to search in the folds of his robes more, "-I decided I wanted to see you more often! You know, maybe-" he pulled out a little black box, "-every day?" He flipped it open to reveal a golden ring with a single diamond twinkling upon it. "Will you marry me, Your Highness?"

The prince's face turned scarlet. "Yes!" he said, "Yes, of course!"

Feliciano jumped up and pulled him into a tight hug. Ludwig's eyes welled up with tears. "Thanks," he whispered into his ear before pressing his lips firmly against his.


	16. Epilogue

Winter stretched on, uncannily joyful due to the slow recovery of people throughout Roma and Germania. Lovino was back to full health long before spring came, yet was too busy to notice when crocuses and snowdrops began cropping up in the melting snow. The air grew warm enough for people to walk about the palace green. In the springtime, Roderich Edelstein's piano resonated throughout the royal palace of Roma when Ludwig and Feliciano were wed. Cheer returned to the hearts of the people as masks were taken off, postmen kissed princes freely, and people could live without fear of catching the plague. Master glass craftsmen went back to making cups, bottles, lamps, and alike. Syringes were no longer needed. Trade flourished between Roma and Germania. Tellings of prosperity were dictated to scribes. And in perfect calligraphy was written: "Let this be known as the Golden Age!"


End file.
